


Something Better Left Unknown

by doubleactionstrike



Category: Ultraman - Fandom, Ultraman Nexus
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleactionstrike/pseuds/doubleactionstrike
Summary: Komon doesn't want to spend the night alone again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started as a fill for a hilarious prompt on the Ultra kink meme but, well. Nexus just isn't that funny.

Their hands brush somewhere down the darkened hall. It’s the first time they touch.

Komon can never predict when they’ll run into each other. In the beginning Himeya never materialized at all, and T.L.T. still don’t trust Ultraman completely because of it. Sometimes after a taking down a Space Beast Himeya disappears like a blink of light as quickly as he came. The first time the being of light revealed himself as a man, a human, Komon felt less alone. He hopes Himeya stays more often, like this time.

This time Komon had taken a chance. He had surprised himself by putting the request out there without fumbling over his words too much. Himeya had surprised him even more by responding agreeably.

Komon isn’t sure what to do with his hand now. Let it stay? Move it? Before he has a breakdown like some teenager Himeya saves him the trouble and takes him loosely by the wrist. He leads him to the door at the end of the hall- the _bedroom_ \- and lets go. Komon hesitates at the threshold.

One time only. That’s what they had agreed on. Just once.

Riko could understand if it was just once. That’s what Komon repeats in his head and tries to make himself believe.  He takes a deep breath to steady himself before following Himeya into his room.

The first thing he notices are the photographs on Himeya’s desk. A hundred people lay spread out across the surface in captured moments. A hundred memories.

“You took these, right?” Komon asks.

“Yeah,” Himeya says. “That was before this job.”

Komon studies the collection closer. Not all of the photos are developed properly- the handful of darkened pictures leave him with even more questions about strangers he’s never met. If he stares into the black film long enough maybe he could find the hidden answers, but he doubts it. Photos are fragile that way. A little bit of light ruins the whole illusion.

Himeya looks out of place perched on the edge of his narrow bed. His tough guy image doesn’t fit in with the simple scene of his apartment. Such a humble place seems beneath a Deunamist who holds so much power. Maybe Komon’s just used to meeting him in the woods.

“Your pictures are really nice,” Komon says. “I like them.”

“Thanks.”

Komon flips the lights off. The evening sunlight bleeding through the blinds is still enough. He carefully maneuvers around in the semi-darkness to join Himeya on the bed that’s not meant for two people. The mattress sinks a little when he sits.

They stay still, the minutes melting into each other, with knees barely touching. Suddenly Komon is unsure. Even if he trusts Himeya as Ultraman, the person behind it is still a mystery.

Himeya moves first and touches him on the thigh- an invitation.

Komon’s hands shake slightly when he finally leans over to pull off his boots. He doesn’t want to spend the night alone again.

“You don’t seem certain about this,” Himeya says, breaking the silence.

“I am.” Komon sets the boots aside with a _thunk_ more confident than he is. “It’s just…”

“Your girlfriend.”

Komon pauses. He looks away as he fumbles with the zipper of his uniform’s pants. Standing, he pulls them down past his waist before sitting back down.

 “Riko,” he says, pulling his pants off the rest of the way. “She was- I keep thinking about her.”

Himeya hasn’t moved to undress by the time Komon is stripped down to his boxers and black tank. Komon leaves his uniform in a pile on the floor and waits.

“It’s worse at night.” Himeya remains still. “Harder to forget in the dark.”

It would be better to forget. Komon wishes he could forget. “Maybe T.L.T. has the right idea.”

That gets him an almost laugh. The short sound cuts off before even having a chance to finish, but it puts him at ease. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard this somber, serious man laugh before.

The leather jacket comes off first. Himeya hangs it on the nightstand before unhooking his simple necklace and laying that aside as well. Komon sits back, trying to relax himself, and watches as Himeya continues undressing. He appreciates how the thin material of shirt clings to his frame and accentuates the build beneath before Himeya pulls it off too.

In the fading light, he makes out the way Himeya’s tawny skin is marked all over with gashes like reminders. Himeya’s left arm remains particularly damaged. The gunshot wounds on his chest are long since healed but still terribly scarred- even with his combat training, Komon flinches at the thought of whatever could cause damage like that.

Himeya notices his movement. “I know. I was lucky to survive.”

“Yeah, your friend told me about it,” Komon says. “Photo journalism, huh. I never knew it was so dangerous.”

“I was lucky,” Himeya repeats. He looks down at his chest. “Not everyone is. Was.”

On impulse Komon reaches out to feel the knots of scar tissue for himself. He’s heard secondhand about what happened in China, sure, but seeing the physical effect of war up close suddenly makes it different, makes it realer. Himeya lets him touch. Komon’s hand remains steady now as he traces the tear of skin across Himeya’s chest and then down his arm.

“Lucky….” Komon repeats. His next thought falls out bitterly. “It feels like being left behind.”

He looks up and catches Himeya eyes. Something darkened there makes Komon pull away, prickling with shame at his careless comment. Himeya takes his hand in his own and places them back on his chest, covering the shrapnel wounds.

“When I took that assignment I was fully prepared to not come back,” Himeya says. He lets go of Komon’s hand. “Part of the job. If there was something I could do, anything, I wanted to do it.”

“You make it sound simple to be brave,” Komon says. He brushes his thumb across the worst part of the scar. “Easy. I want to be like that, so badly, but…”

 “I think you’re brave.” Himeya reaches up and smooths Komon’s hair back. “I think you’re very brave.”

Komon leans into the touch. He explores the rest of Himeya’s scars down his arm until he holds that hand in his own.

“How do you manage to keep fighting?”

Himeya takes him by the chin and tilts his head up so they’re eye-to-eye. “It’s harder than it looks. I don’t know what the Light wants from me. I don’t know why you and I were chosen for this but it _must_ have been for a reason. It’s not that I’m being brave. I just want to know why.”

“What if there isn’t a why?” Komon asks him. “What if there isn’t a reason for any of it?”

“I want my life to have meaning. That’s how I keep going. If I’m here now then it must be for a reason, don’t you think?”

They look at each other. The darkened look is back in Himeya’s eyes and the tight set of his jaw as he looks through Komon like he’s not there. The question hangs heavy in the air and Komon wishes he knew what spoken words would help either of them.

 “Let me know if you find out.”

Himeya lets go of him but doesn’t break his gaze. “You didn’t invite me out to talk.”

He’s waiting for the first move, Komon realizes. He is, after all, the one who propositioned Himeya in the first place, offering company and yes, conversation too. Komon touches his knee before looking up again for approval. Himeya nods ever so slightly, and so, encouraged, he presses on.

“Can I kiss you?”

Himeya smiles at him, a real smile, and it’s so new and warm that Komon wants to bask in it until the world is normal again and he stops having nightmares when the lights are off. “That is what we’re here for, yeah. Among other things.”

“Right,” Komon says, “right.”

Himeya closes the remaining distance between them with a hand laid on Komon’s thigh and an arm slid around his back. His other hand is reassuring against Komon where it moves up to rest on his shoulder. A gentle push encourages him to lay back.

Komon lets himself be guided down to the mattress until he’s looking up at the ceiling, heart thumping too loudly and hands shakier than ever- it’s just one time, he reminds himself.  He wanted this. _Wants_ it.

He spreads his legs farther apart so Himeya can easily situate himself between them. He’s surprised when Himeya simply lies down beside him instead, burying his face against Komon’s neck with a soft exhale. That’s how they lay together- for how long, Komon can only guess- as evening creeps in.

It’s nice. It feels good to be held. It feels good to lay with someone who takes him as he is and doesn’t ask for more.

 “So, when was the last time you…,” Komon trails off. “Sorry. You don’t want to tell me about that.”

“I don’t.” Himeya’s voice is muffled against him.

This side of Himeya is almost cute, Komon thinks, watching the way the other follows the even rise and fall of his chest with every breath. He considers running a hand through Himeya’s hair; it’s something Riko would have done for him.

“I miss her.” His chest is tight like it could burst. Suddenly his eyes sting. “Shit, Himeya, I miss her.”

Himeya winds his other arm around Komon’s waist and presses closer against him before speaking.

“You always will.” The bluntness of it hacks like Komon a dull knife. “You’ll always feel it- but don’t give in to it. You musn’t lose yourself to anger.”

Anger. That makes the tightness in his chest twist more painfully. Komon should be angry but he isn’t. He hasn’t been anything but scared shitless ever since he took this job. It’s done nothing but cost him, and he isn’t sure what he even has left to lose anymore.

It only makes him angry when he feels like he can do nothing but watch.

“I’m not strong like that!” Komon didn’t mean to shout. He covers his face like it can block out the words and make them not true. Yelling at Himeya won’t change anything, he knows. Nothing can change the past. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall, wondering if Himeya will say anything about the way his chest is heaving. “Not like you.”

“That’s not true.” Himeya tilts his head to look at him. His tone is gentler now when he speaks. “You’ve shown me that. I see how you fight.”

Himeya is different. He searches for what he wants, alone, because he can take it. Komon doesn’t know how Himeya does it- they’ve both lost, been lost. Now here they are.  Together.

Komon feels like he really could cry.

“…Jun?” he tries in a whisper, but the way Himeya tenses against him instantly makes him regret being so familiar. “Never mind, sorry.”

Himeya straightens up, pushing from the mattress to sit and look down on Komon, allowing him enough freedom to awkwardly roll over on his side. “How do you want to do this?”

For one night Komon will let himself forget. “Your lead.”


End file.
